To the end of the world
by spiked78
Summary: Spuffy eventually fic taking from the end of Angel season 5 and imagining a future
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **All characters belong to the creator and writers of 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' no copyright infringement intended. This story was created for entertainment purposes only.

**Chapter 1**

The dragon arced down ungracefully, a rush of wing driven wind pulsing down towards the tiny creatures beneath it. Much more like a B52 bomber than a swallow. Its huge wing muscles throbbing like twin turbo engines keeping it from falling like a stone to earth. The smell of living beings causing lines of saliva to drip from its maw. Ages had past since this beast had been born and lived in this world. Millennia's of scouring desolate hellish wastelands in other dimensions with only the memory of human flesh to sustain it. Talons extended in anticipation of latching onto its prey. Far below Spike looked up at the descending mammoth and then across at the advancing horde. An irresistible urge to smirk came over him, which earned him a curious look from Angel.

"All out fight in a mob, back against the wall, nothing but fists and fangs? Don't you ever get tired of fights you know you're going to win? Looks like I get my wish."

Spike said as he prepared to face certain death, recalling a conversation in Yorkshire mineshaft well over a century ago.

"You are an idiot Spike. A complete and total one. You're …"

Angel's words were cut off by the dragon slamming down upon them. A Talon ripped through Angel's Shoulder as he tried to dodge the gigantean creature. Spike rolled dispatching an overly keen demon racing ahead of the rest of the horde. Like a wave the army of demons rolled over them. The scene situation more like a mosh pit at a rock concert than a fight, the outnumbered Angel crew driven this way and that by the innate tide of the demon army. Spike battled on, their disorganisation helping him temporarily take them out. But soon their sheer weight of numbers hitting him from all sides took its toll. Another jab into his already broken ribs had him doubling over in pain. Through the fog of pain he swiped out at his attackers but his prone position gave a huge gnarled green demon's fist the opportunity for a clean strike at his temple. Spike slumped into unconsciousness, his body continuing to be savaged by the demon mob. Soon though they trampled over his inert form seeking more lively prey.

The dragon was playing now. Vampires were no fun to eat, all sour to the taste buds. Instead it was playing with the creature like a cat plays with a mouse, all thought of eating gone from its mind temporarily. It flicked up the creature and tossed him against the wall, then let it get up and allowed it to get a little closer this time before sending it crashing away again.

Angel felt he was doing quite well. In a minute he was sure he'd be up near enough the dragon to try and attack it somewhere on its scaly hide. Weren't they supposed to have a vulnerable spot somewhere? All he could see was scales though. Every time he was getting closer but he was also getting increasing battered. His right shoulder was stiffening up badly and he felt like a badly bruised piece of fruit might feel. He charged once more only to be catapulted through the wall and into unconsciousness this time. The dragon stretched, deciding it was well in truly time to get some food and rose into the sky. It briefly thought about finishing off the vampire but found a mental warning from Wolfram & Hart telling him to leave the vampire to them and even a dragon wouldn't take on Wolfram & Hart alone. Its huge wings spread wide as it glided, its infrared gaze spotting a gang of youths loitering by a park bench. Doom swooped upon the spotty teens. As they died in horrified agony their dropped cigarette warning that smoking kills, proving to be rather understated.

Charles Gunn's breathing had become ragged and short. The axe in his sweaty palm seemed tough to keep hoisted in the air. His mind seemed to play tricks on him, losing him what precious little time he had left. One minute the horde were advancing and the next thing he remembered was the last of the horde trampling over him. He'd lost his axe somewhere along the line along with the remainder of strength. He'd dreamed about a heroic death, standing next to his friends till the end. He hadn't dreamed of being ignored by the evil demons because they thought he was already dead. He hadn't thought he'd be lying in a smelly alley with fear and loneliness battling for dominance within him. People didn't remember people who died like this. A well of bitterness swept over him as the battle raged. He felt the dizziness coming and welcomed it as a respite from the despair of the moment. Consciousness faded. He was panicking now, as death appeared to be laying his bony hand on his shoulder. Was this the final frontier or would he awake in a minute to catch the swansong of Angel and co? Fear overwhelmed him and he screamed out for help, for someone to save him. Tears slid down his cheek as his befuddled mind drifted towards death.

There were ten big green demons standing in a row and then suddenly one green demon fell and there were nine green demons standing in a row. The fallen demon's head rolled away from its body where Illyria had sliced bone and flesh cleanly in one stroke. Illyria picked them off one at a time but in the meantime the larger horde were circling around her baying like a tribe of wolves at the moonlight sky. They moved as one leaping upon her tiny frame. As she dislodged one another two grappled at her. She wondered distantly if she'd ever understood pain before because at this moment it seemed a very terrible and noteworthy feeling. The final combatant fell in the largely irrelevant battle of the Alley. Demons feasted on ancient demon meat, each trying to get their own share of the powerful flesh before the pack devoured the carcass. Wolfram and Hart spell faded and dragons and demons were sucked back to their home realm. A black plate less van pulled into the alley chucking two inert forms into the back with little delicateness. The scream of police sirens could be heard, a gang related string of murders being blamed for the sudden rise in corpses. People repressed the incident, refusing to believe in the supernatural. A watcher dropped by logging a confused report. Witches probed and a blonde slayer prowled LA's streets briefly forlornly. Only in the depths of Siberia did a monk take a call on an old black telephone and scribbled a description of the battle in the tome in front of him. Around him thousands of similar tombs lined the walls. The monk turned the page and awaited the next call and history forgot the battle.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: A World away

"Raindrops keep fallin' on my head and just like the guy whose feet are too big for his bed, Nothin' seems to fit, Those raindrops are fallin' on my head, they keep fallin'"

The tune didn't seem to want to stop either, it just kept perpetually looping. Life sucked, it sucked so bad that sometimes he desperately wanted to reach for a gun. Stuck in a broken down lift with the stereo blaring this bloody inane song. If he could stand he would have given the door a good kicking but he hadn't been able to in years. Not since that bloody dragon had slammed into him taking his dignity from him. People kept telling him as he was a vampire his legs might recover as they had before. They hadn't yet and in his alcohol soaked mind they never would. The elevator thrummed to life suddenly and the doors opened on the corridor. He rolled himself in the wheelchair until he reached the flaky red apartment door at the far end. The door was already hanging open. Not a good sign as it had been locked this morning. Spike gave it a shove to reveal a trashed apartment. He didn't own anything so why did people constantly ransack his apartment, he shouted helplessly at the empty room. The tele screen had a big nasty hole in it, so that did for his plan of watching the A-team marathon. If he wanted a new one he'd have to phone the Connor's and he sure as hell wasn't going to do that. If he had his legs back he'd kill Liam with his poncy hair and his poncy new life. Couldn't even keep his name, had to change it from Angel as if that could draw a line under his antics as Angelus. And if by some odd chance he could restrain himself from trying to kill Angel then there was the salt in the raw wound of Buffy being his wife. Maybe they'd bring the kid round to really torture him again. The woman he loved most in the whole world had reproduced with someone with that hair.

They hadn't touched his whiskey which was wonderful but a wee bit odd. One bottle went down rather too easily. By the time he'd opened the second he noticed something odd. It didn't taste right, not quite right. Just a margin of error, so tiny it wouldn't be noticeable except for the fact he knew his whiskey like the back of his hand. And even then most days he'd just drink away pushing the unease to the back of his mind. For some reason today though his mind wouldn't let go of the discrepancy, like a terrier's grip on its favourite chew toy. He tried the next one and it was the same. Something was suddenly wrong, no something had been wrong for a very long time. Feeling sorry for yourself said a drunken voice in his head but no ever since that night in the alley everything had gone wrong literally. Nothing had worked out, he'd always been dealt the worst cards. He grabbed some cards from the table and dealt himself a hand. An absolute garbage one, another one, a third. He remembered vaguely giving up cards as Buffy said it was costing him too much. Cos he was losing. The drink seemed to have opened up all these mysterious doors that had been locked in his brain. He felt as if he'd suddenly been liberated from some spell that had kept him from querying all his bad luck. His mind probed backwards till he reached that night in the alley. The dragon descending towards him, its shadow obliterating all trace of moonlight. Part of him yelled to stop trying to remember but then the dragon was past him and crashed into Angel. He got up, his mind telling his body that his legs were fine. There was a knock at the door. There was a creak and the door hanging half off its hinges swung inwards to reveal Angel. He was wearing his customary dour black attire completely different from his own black coordinated attire spike thought, bitterness overwhelming him temporarily.

"You really shouldn't be trying to stand up."

Angel's words dripped with venom and Spike found his newfound feeling in his legs fading. Stubbornness of a mule though overcame whatever power was being exercised on him. He launched himself forward attacking Angel, his game face coming out to the fore with white hot ferocity. Angel's hands came from behind his back, a crowbar in tow. Angel's arms moved impossible speed, the metal bar connecting with Spike's ribs in one second flat. His own hands seem like treacle in comparison unable to block the snapping attacks of the crowbar. Each bite of the metal sent shards of pain rocketing to Spike's neural cortex. As one vicious strike sent him back onto and through the glass coffee table he realised something so terribly obvious.

'Epiphanies', why do they always seem to come to me after I've been battered to hell and back thought Spike. If this wasn't real, then this wasn't Angel. Therefore this was either some spotty teen playing a game with him or some magical illusion which meant it was his own inferiority complex to Angel that was losing him this fight. He flipped himself upright, his whole body language becoming predatory and strut returning to his gait. Angel's punch missed for the first time but not the last. Spike roared and launched flurries of punches at the Angel illusion. Years of repressed anger came out of him, the snap of Angels' tibia giving Spike a degree of cathartic release. He flipped a chair up with his left hand breaking it over the Angel doppelganger's head. The creature tried to struggle to its feet but only managed to offer its chest up for Spike to impale with the broken chair leg in his hand.

Angel now consisted of a sprinkling of dust coating his flat's floor but then it wasn't really Angel. He scanned the apartment, realising that this place held nothing of value for him. He walked through the door and up the stairs, a realisation of what he had to do coming to his mind. It was time for a leap of faith, one that he wouldn't live through if he was wrong. He couldn't second guess himself, his inner gut told him this wasn't his world. The sunbeams stretched their golden fingers to his toes. A heavily pregnant Buffy stood in his way looking radiant and disapproving. She was looking at him like someone looks at their pet dog after it's slipped its lease and run off. Well he wasn't her pet dog. He tried to barge past her without actually knocking her. Part of him still unwilling to hit a pregnant Buffy. He squirmed clear but she still seemed to somehow slip and fall down the last few steps crying out for him to help her. He paused deeply tempted to run back and help her. But that's what they'd want him to do. Her terrified eyes burning a hole in his heart but the rational side of his mind chided him to realise his Buffy would never be that helpless. He ran out into the direct sunlight. It was beautiful. Its rays lanced down burning him, turning his skin a crispy shade of black. The pain was excruciating and every instinct told him to run back downstairs. Death overcame Spike again with one last torturous burst of pain and he awoke chained to a wall in a concrete cell. Angel was chained next to him still unconscious in some fantasy of his own no doubt.

The chains weren't mystically difficult to break fortunately. No one expected them to escape their nightmare environment. It had been a very realistic spell, no doubt costing the most likely suspect, Wolfram & Hart a chunk of cash or a big favour.

Angel was chained to a wall. He'd been here for years. It was his own stupid fault for trusting Spike. He should have known he was still evil even with a soul. He'd had to watch while Spike killed and turned everyone he'd ever cared out. He closed his eyes as the groans became louder from beneath him. Buffy, his one true pure love now become dark as the blackest evil. Her vamped out features a testament to Spike's evilness. The chains were mystically enhanced so that no matter how hard he pulled, and he pulled very hard, he couldn't break their shiny silver links. Below him an orgy of vampires and their human slaves writhed in a stew of sex and feeding. The groans and moans below him were becoming louder and louder. And here he was chained to the wall like some achitetypal Jesus figure. Except he was paying for his sins as Angelus rather than the world's. There would be no end to this though, they'd keep him alive well after his brain had unhinged itself well and truly.

His left cheek stung and then his right. He was going mad in front of his own eyes. Then it happened again, as if someone was slapping him repeatedly in the face. Here he was alone on the wall though, wasn't he? He closed his eyes and followed the stinging pain of each slap down the rabbit hole like Alice. It was almost as if the way had been sign posted to him. His eyes opened to a darker room. Spike was still here and he was still chained to the wall. No that was wrong, this was a different wall and a different building and even Spike looked different. Was he hallucinating? It didn't feel like it. If anything this felt realer.

"_You've been in some dream world as was I. Wolfram & Hart inspired I guess. Now pull yourself free and we'll get outta here."_

_Spike said gruffly feeling in dire need of a cigarette. Why if he didn't have a circulation was he feeling the pangs of addiction? He kicked the door to their cell down quelling the nicotine urge briefly with a spot of violence. Outside was an abandoned sewer. Why was there always an abandoned sewer to traipse through? And traipse they did, as they were obviously off the beaten track in some dead end forgotten part of the system. To pass the time they discussed the weird world's they'd inhabited and marvelled at how they both seemed to have aged during their time in captivity, a first for vampires as best they could tell. _

"_Wait. Hold it right there mate. So in your dream I was evil and had turned Buffy and you thought it was real."_

_Spike shouted indignantly after realising the truth of Angel's nightmare after he'd been loudly self analysing it._

"_Well you killed me in yours."_

_Angel replied incredously._

"_Yes but unlike you Angel I am possible of creating a nightmare that doesn't involve you being evil from day one. "_

_He strode on hoping to find something to hit to lessen the dual angel and nicotine facets of his bad mood. No such luck though, t_he sewer suddenly came to an abrupt end instead. The tunnel in front had been collapsed and a ton of rubble blocked the passage onwards. Just before the mass of rock, a new looking stainless steel wall ladder led to a dark access hatch above.

"Ever feel like the mouse in the maze, being corralled to the poisoned cheese."

Spike said his voice sounding ominously loud in the dark. Angel merely nodded solemnly and pressed on climbing upwards towards the circular hatch. Strange markings covered the hatch, which Angel thought foreboded of things to come. Magical runes on sewer hatches weren't the typical city sewer design. The hatch shifted aside easily and they both clambered out and into pitch darkness. Then the hatch vanished. Not a case of not being able to see it in the dark, though it was so dark that even supernatural night vision was poor at best. A human would have been to everything around him or her and even now their eyes seemed to play tricks on them as if a dark cloth was dropped over their eyes every so often. No doubt the hatch still existed on the other side of this trap. That seemed an adequate word for this place. Now where was the noose of this particular trap? A prehistoric snarl and sound of claws dragging off the concrete floor heralded its arrival. It was big whatever was out there and big things with claws usually weren't vegetarians. Then it attacked, a swish of its tail sending both of them hurtling against the wall and back onto the cold hard floor. Spike brushed away a stray piece of the sporadic straw floor bedding that had got lodged behind his ear. More seriously the thing obviously had some kind of venom in its spiny tail that was working at spike's legs. He pulled off his leather duster hoping using it as a shield might block the venom. Angel seemed to have had the same idea. This time when the attack came he grabbed the tail through his jacket and tried to hold the creature down. It kept shifting and it seemed awfully flexible, Almost as it could alter its shape to some degree. Its claws raked at his shoulder while Angel tried to land a killer blow. Finally there was a crack as Angel landed on it knee first and it went still.

The air went alive with shrill little voices as hundreds of little golden pixies pored from hiding places around them and surrounded them. They leaped and danced merry little circles around angel in particular ecstatically singing.

"Our saviour is here. Angel, Lord of all of us."

"Oh great. It's always Angel never Spike. No Angel gets Pixie worshippers because he's so special."

Spike grumbled under his breath as he tried to wipe his duster clean of demon slime before putting it back on.

"Thank you Angel's lackey too."

The Pixies joyfully shrieked, dancing in circles round Spike before returning to Angel.

"Lackey!, Lackey I say. What next I ask?"

Spike said in exasperation as he kicked the exit door down in frustration.

"Maybe you could have tried the handle, Spike."

Angel replied as he cautiously tried to follow Spike without stepping on his worshippers. Quickly he realised they were more fleet of foot than him and were able to move to avoid getting squashed under foot.

"It's open isn't it? Now the room gets a bit of an airing too, which in my opinion it was in serious need of. Faeces are not a good scent for a room."

Spike replied sarcastically as he strode out of the room and into the night air.

Los Angeles twinkled in front of them. It was a beautiful sight like a mini cosmos shining in the crescent moon light. The horde of pixies running amok was less beautiful.

"Are Pixies evil?"

Spike idly asked wondering if it would be evil to try and stamp on them like when you stamp on ants as a kid. Nothing evil about it surely his inner demon argued but overall he felt it would fail a polygraph.

"Mischievous, I think is the word always associated."

Angel replied trying to brush a couple off in a non lethal fashion.

"So where to fearless leader?"

Spike replied, his eyes detecting numerous similar looking warehouses as far as the eye could see. He turned to see Angel walking towards LA determinedly. Peaches was like a dog with a bone, too focused on his personal war with Wolfram & Hart for his own good. Well he didn't have anything better to do so he might as well keep going. At least there was bound to be a bit of argy bargy in the near future. What with Angel's social skills being of an equal par with his own. He wouldn't mind a bit of revenge too just as long as he could get a beer and a smoke along the way.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 (Fishing for answers)

There are certain things that drive home a sheer delight of being alive. The moon shining down in all its glory on the glittering lights of Los Angeles might be considered up there among them. An articulated lorry rumbling by sending a grimy spray of standing water over a pair of tired figures on a roadside isn't among them that's for sure. Wolfram & Hart could have left a car sitting around rather than making them walk for bleeding hours back to a more civilised part of town. Angel hadn't opened up much in that time either, a deep brooding pall was growing around his tense shoulders.

They reached a payphone and the tension erupted suddenly and violently. Angel's fist smashing the metal as if it were mere tissue paper. Like a smashed piggy bank coins clattered and into Angel's awaiting hand. Angel's hand angrily punched in numbers, each number feeling personally blamed for the torture Wolfram & Hart had inflicted upon them. Spike's eyes had been drawn elsewhere though and Angel's terse voice seemed to melt into the background. His eyes were locked on a battered bin holding a grubby copy of the LA Times. Four years, seeing the date brought home the finality of it. In reality he'd known they'd been down there for quite some time but before he saw it in print he could pretend it had just been weeks or months. What could have happened in four years? Would he be visiting a gravestone by the time he got round to seeing his beloved Buffy? Would he be regretting the cowardly fear that had kept him from running right to her side. That she might dash all his hopes and dreams as foolish fantasies of a deluded wraithlike creature. He pushed the damp news print until it fell deeper into the bin and out of sight. Out of sight, out of mind as they say. By the time he turned round Angel had left the payphone's grubby cubby, a determined look upon his face. Spike recognised the look, any vampire would. It was the hunter born anew with each new tantalising encounter, the vitality that made vampires seem so romantic to pale faced naïve young things.

"And so it begins."

Spike whispered, falling into step beside Angel, his fingers clenching in anticipation of revenge. Angel's purposeful strides took them through shadowy alley ways filled with black garbage backs reeking of rotten food produce. They passed a smoker, standing at the rear of a grotty late night food joint trying to puff the remaining life from a fag end. A new smell overwhelmed the reek of rot, the potent mixture of salt air and fish assailing their powerful nasal senses. The sight of the huge fishing trawlers etched on the skyline soon followed the smell. They kept their distance from the moored behemoths and struck out amongst the bundles of piled netting and empty fish crates that made up one corner of the concrete pier. In behind a wall of unstably stacked bright red plastic crates they found their prey. A bottom feeder scoffing down a discarded handful of fish heads. His three eyes darted up in terror as he saw them approaching. Angel clapped a firm hand over the terrified demon's mouth as it charged awkwardly towards them, screaming in a high pitched voice.

Spike sat back, interested to see what incentive Angel had in mind for this skitterish stool pigeon. He followed him to the dock edge, glad of the concealment the banks of fog rolling in provided. Angel hoisted the demon over the side, wrapping a thick chain round his left ankle. The demon's eyes kept looking worriedly down in case he was suddenly dropped into the dark sea below.

"Now Daekus. Tell me something useful or you'll get a chance to pass or fail a how to swim test."

Angel grimly demanded of the stricken sickly green demon. The demon started hyperventilating in panic and flapping his webbed hands about madly trying to grab at the chain. A stench of demon urine and a trickle of liquid showed the full extent of his panic.

"Why can't you just leave poor Daekus alone and go bug your friend in the bar down over there."

He cried pitifully as the confused pair of vampires looked on trying to understand what he was getting at.

"The Mariners Rest!"

He exclaimed pointing wildly at a squat ugly building a few hundred metres away. Angel turned and stalked off towards the building where faint music could be heard filtering out from behind smoky windows. Behind them Daekus clawed at the chain holding his foot and tried to free himself from his strung up plight.

The door swung open as Angel pushed his way into the gloomy bar. Spike followed suit thinking that the rotten wooden monstrosity could do with being kicked off its hinges. Actually a slightly too rough shove might work considering the state of the hinges. It had a portal in it presumably because it was called The Mariners Rest. Somewhere for all the illegal demon dock workers in LA to congregate and drown their sad little lives in risky demonic substances that made alcohol seem like tobacco is to cocaine. Diluted Fyarl mucus and the like. Not that he'd tried them all mind you, but when he'd been brought low by Druscilla's infidelity he'd tried a few. Mostly they tasted foul and seared your skull. He saw a few vampires drinking rounds of what he guessed were diluted holy water. Muppets. If the barman gets the mixture wrong your toast and if the landlord's dodgy you're probably drinking water diluted with more water.

Angel had come here for a reason and that reason wasn't to try the local cocktails though. That reason wasn't to get into a fight but that looked to be what was about to happen. Add two well dressed vampires in with a mixture of varieties of drunk demons with chips on their shoulders and well…. Suddenly The two well dressed vampires look like the incarnation of every bugger who's ever had a bad word to say about them. The real reason they were here was on the stage singing Bruce Springsteen's 'Glory Days'

"Yeah, just sitting back trying to recapture  
A little of the glory of, well time slips away  
And leaves you with nothing mister but  
Boring stories of glory days."

Well someone was sure as hell maudlin tonight thought Spike as a chair crashed down on his shoulder. The vampire who'd done it realised he'd jumped the starters pistol and was now about to be pummelled by a well and truly pissed off Spike. He looked around and saw that the rest of the inhabitants were none too subtly keeping their eyes firmly on their drinks. So he turned and sprinted out the door, his mates on his heels. The tone of the bar lightened as if everyone realised that while everyone in the bar was up for a bar room brawl, they all wanted to be on the edges of it putting the boot in. They sure as hell didn't want to be in front of two strong mightily pissed off vampires.

"Is that what vampires are today?"

Spike said brushing shards of chair out of his hair while checking out his throbbing head. Angel didn't reply too focused on rushing to meet the departing karaokeist.

Not that Spike wasn't a bit curious too. Woolly bobble hat, stained tracky bottoms and a frayed stained shirt was hardly likely to be in vogue even if they'd been away for a century. What had happened to the sharp suited entertainer who had been Lorne.

"Lorne, one of my old contacts told me you'd be here. what's happened to you?"

Angel didn't waste anytime with niceties but then what niceties were there to say. Also he didn't mention that said demon contact had been strung up and beaten till he'd choked out the details.

"Hey, Angelkins. Looking a bit creased around those eyes aren't you and you too Spike. Anyone for a shot of A.D.E?"

Lorne's voice was giggly with excitement, the artificial kind. A.D.E, now that's some bad shit. African Diablo Essence. rare as the Giant Panda and probably the most addictive substance on God's green earth. But then God probably wouldn't claim that demon as one of his own. The green substance swilling in Lorne's glass was almost hypnotically tempting to Spike's nasal senses. Only an idiot drank that stuff though, as it rotted you from the inside and was impossible to give up. Some people said quitting smoking was impossible but that was just hyperbole whereas this was a fact. You'd gnaw off your own arm if you tried but only after your body had gone places where your imagination didn't want to envision.

"A.D.E. Why Lorne? This Stuff's a killer."

His eyes. I'm not sure I can capture those eyes. The single moment of pure crystalline clarity in those orbs before madness re-enveloped them.

"This is my punishment, from Wolfram and Hart. I always was a sucker for the delicacies this life can offer."

His hand shook incessantly as he poured the remnants of the contents of the smoky brown bottle into his glass. As soon as he returned the bottle to the table, it mystically started refilling itself with the slick green liquid accompanied by a sound similar to a tap running.

"Where's your fight Lorne? Why won't you fight back?"

Angel was virtually eyeballing Lorne by the time the words are out of his mouth. The sight of Lorne so shrunken, aged and passive before him, seemed to have rocked him deeply. A hand on his shoulder restraining him and Spike half expected to get punched for it but instead Angel came back from the brink.

"It's dead Angelkins along with the rest of the dead. Little Fred, wise old Wesley, Clever Cordy and even good old Lindsay and mmmm…. "

Lorne's words tailed off becoming nothing more than an unintelligible mumbled gurgle. His eyes had gone glassy as he retreated into one of A.D.E's delusions. His body twitched suggesting it probably wasn't a pleasant dream.

Angel turned to go his shoulders newly slumped by the encounter. Spike could get it even if he didn't feel it. He'd known Lorne but not really cared. Not that he hadn't found him likeable, just that it would be different if it was one of the scoobies. Not that they'd been close but when you spend so much time with people who are so full of life, to see them as lifeless as Lorne was now would be shocking

"Once there was a wolf, a ram and a hart.

That's a fine game for a start.

Then came Angel's Merry men

Only them for a count of ten.

Now it's Charles Gunn

He's now number one."

Lorne was still far away in a land of dreams as he sang the words. Although the words came from his mouth they didn't fit. Like square pegs in round holes, they seemed kind of forced.

"Do we follow the deliberately dropped breadcrumbs?"

Spike said sarcastically watching Angel disappearing towards the door.

"I'll take that as a yes."

Spike grumbled under his breath as he trudged after the great ponce.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4(Fun with Gunn)**

"This is never going to work"

Spike complained bitterly as he stood peering at the empty alley, his nerves on end as he waited for them to be disturbed. Above the pale glow of a streetlight flickered ever so slightly. Angel grunted back at him as he hunched over the control panel punching in a code. The name Wolf, Ram and Hart was spelt out in small gold letters above the doorway. Not quite the same effort had gone into the rear as had gone into the glossy front façade of the law firm. A rat scuttled behind a trash can causing Spike to yelp. Yelp, of course in a very manly fashion not in a Harris way or anything. A Sudden buzz startled him once more before he realised it was the door accepting Angel's code. Angel dragged open the sturdy metal door and they quickly bundled in and closed the door quietly behind them. No crack SWAT team awaited them as yet on the other side but they could possibly be on the way. There had probably been a silent alarm triggered Spike thought cynically.

"Had a fake code put in while I was in charge, in case my own was revoked."

Angel said with a rather punchable smug look on his face. Just then Angel's gaggle of pixie worshippers turned up destroying all chance of quiet skulking around the building. Angel at least was looking a bit more chagrined with them being present. Probably it was due to him being uncomfortable with hundreds of little creatures bowing in unison and chanting his name. Angel was never a good one at taking the plaudits, give him self torment anyday. Now Angelus would have found the situation just peachy. Spike was annoyed at their presence too, mainly because every once in a while one of them would call him Angel's lackey again. Once more he pondered killing the slowest of them in an act of Darwinist determining which were the fittest to survive. He discarded the evil thought and pressed onwards, the sound of the pixies fading behind them as they got distracted by a vent. The décor was as crappy as the façade at the rear. Obviously nobody cared about doing up this area of the building. They took the nearest staircase avoiding the lifts in case they were security trapped. After a couple of floors both of them were regretting it. They didn't have to breathe but years of no exercise stuck in that contraption in the sewers had still taken their toll. They pressed on still too fearful of taking the elevators, finally reaching the executive floor.

A single light shone out from what had once been Angel's office. Lorne's cryptic comments made Spike think that they might very well find Charles Gunn's name over the door. He hadn't raised the idea with Angel as he looked haunted and desperate for answers. Noiselessly they scooted across the wooden reception area. The gleaming door plaque proclaimed Charles Gunn to be CEO of Wolfram and Hart Industries. As he was reading it Angel burst through it. The wooden door smashed off its hinges coming to rest of the crimson carpeting. Spike pulled his duster down from around his face where he had thrown it up protectively. Angel seemed oblivious to the dangers of flying debris from a wooden door. Maybe that's cause he thinks he's the hero and heroes don't die by splinter. He struggled to his feet and followed Angel into the room doing his best not to come off as looking like a lackey. Behind the huge mahogany desk that had once been Angel's tall leather chair stood facing the wall. The sound of a pen rapping repetitively against the armrest was the only thing that broke the eerie silence. Slowly the chair turned to reveal the bald plated Gunn. Not quite as young, not quite as athletic and not quite as genuine. An odd feeling that, but they do always say first impressions count for a lot thought Spike. Where the feeling came from was a mystery. Maybe just because he was looking at the CEO of Wolfram & Hart and that was never likely to be a good sign. The suit he was as sharp as ever, but he looked too at ease in the huge leather chair and there was something about his eyes that just made the hairs on your arms stand on end.

"Gunn?"

Angel rasped. A single word containing such despair and trepidation. A mild smirk spread over Gunn's face creasing his eyes with time's crowfeets

"Yes Angel. We are Gunn."

Gunn replied smugly.

"Feeling royal are we now? Hadn't heard you'd joined a monarchy?"

Spike butted in with thinly disguised contempt.

"Aah. Spike, always coming back like a bad penny. We are more than this body once was, a gestalt entity. Gunn and the community merged symbiotically to form us."

Gunn's voice rang out with a calm dispassionate finality to it. Angel stepped forward like a pitbull tugging at its leash, only his modicum of control stopping him leaping over the desk and attacking the thing that his friend had become. Almost as if anticipating Angel's next thought he said.

"As Gunn died he called out for someone to save him. The community is as ancient as the hills and we rose from the sewers amid the violence of the fight. We responded to his plea for salvation and he enriched our collective when he was absorbed. "

"You stole his body."

Angel replied, spitting out the words.

"We are Gunn, body and mind."

This is what you call a Mexican stand off. The thing that was now Gunn didn't understand the concept of stealing bodies. It seemed this was Gunn, or what he'd become after something had preyed on him at death. Just like young William and Liam had been preyed on all those years ago. He was Spike, but in a way part of him was still William. It seemed worse as Gunn's corpse still breathed as a human would but was it any different to vampiric life. Everything needs a vessel at the end of the day. How he was going to raise that with his psychotic fellow vampire was another question though. A distraction came to his rescue as if on cue.

The window shattered, tiny pieces of glass bursting free in formation before swooping down to bury themselves in the plush burgundy carpet weave. Six black ops figures slipping clear of their moorings and rushing at them with stakes. So much for the surgical strike by a couple of master vampires thought Spike. Of course in olden times surgery was a lot messier business than today. So perhaps they were just being retro which was generally considered to be cool as long as you weren't so retro that you were old fashioned and out of date.

One of them seemed bemused and then concussed when he was hit by a chair. As if he was going to fight fair and not use the furniture as artillery. Why oh why did they always send humans was the next thought as one of them went straight out the window again, this time without his harness. Was that an evil thing to do? They were evil; he was on the side of all things good like kittens and such forth. Ergo he'd have to kill bad guys unless they'd entered A-team world where everyone just got a few bruises and a telling off. As he dealt with the last one he saw the creature formerly known as Gunn exit via his personal elevator. A quick head butt and the last operative was unconscious. Across from him Angel was just finishing off his third using some fancy marshal arts move. Flashy he thought but I still prefer a good knuckle sandwich.

They congregated by Gunn's desk scanning it for anything of value. A gold leafed folder sat plum in the middle of the mahogany table. One might consider the A4 dossier gaudy in the extreme. The Sunnydale Project emblazoned on the cover alongside the words Top Secret just emphasized the fact.

"This has got to be a trap."

Angel said in rather a condescending tone of voice.

"Here was me thinking it was kosher."

Spike replied drolly. Angel flicked open the folder flinching expecting something evil to happen. Instead a stack of papers and a pair of car keys fell out. Spike grabbed the keys in flash examining them.

"They're for the viper. See there's where I scratched my initials when I was absolutely bored."

Spike said rather proudly.

"You vandalised my keys. And why would that car still be around?"

Spike shrugged disinterestedly dropping the keys on the table, more interested in the papers scattered across the desk. Seemed Wolfram and Hart had been retained by the Sunnydale syndicate to oversee the legal aspects of buying the land surrounding Sunnydale for the purposes of construction. Why did that not fill him with confidence as to the goals of said syndicate? Angel was now equally engrossed and probably equally unimpressed judging by his comment.

"Who would want to bring back that hellhole?"

"It wasn't so bad. Kind of homely I always thought."

Spike replied feeling oddly ticked off that someone was having a go at Sunnydale. Not that it wasn't a hellhole, just that he'd died saving it by destroying it. It was his hellhole, the closest thing he'd had to a home for over a century.

The sound of footsteps ended the argument abruptly. A second security team was on the way and it would be best if they scarpered. They both grabbed for the keys but Angel got there first, which left Spike lumbered with a folder of papers. The stairs were easier this time round as it was all downhill. Plus there was a security team closing in on them, which always focuses the mind. The viper looked a bit dilapidated. Scratches, dents and graffiti evident in equal number. At least it started, even if it was like a throat with a heavy cold. Not a healthy purr it should have been. It spluttered out of the parking space and towards the exit, which was suspiciously open. Spike surveyed the interior spotting more graffiti.

"Hey here it says Angel has bad hair."

He said jovially after he'd read several insults to angel. There was a definite anti Angel theme.

"Where?"

Angel replied taking his eyes momentarily off the road and almost wiping them out against the central partition of the highway.

"Hey it says so does his lackey. That better not be me. I'm so going to kill Fozzy whoever he is."

Spike angrily said after reading fozzy addition to the initial comment. After the wrath had subsided and he'd examined the entirety of the damage it was clear the vehicle had been used as a kind of mural to have a go at a despised former CEO. It didn't seem Angel had gone down particularly well in folklore at Wolfram & Hart.

"So to Sunnydale then?"

Spike said rhetorically feeling rather impotent sitting in the passenger seat rather than the driver's side. Angel merely nodded, obviously building up for a good brooding session. In the well behind the seats the pixies were building something. It could possibly be a shrine or just a very poor house. It was fair to say Dodge Viper enthusiasts would be weeping as they tore up pieces of leather upholstery for their new structure.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5(The calm before the storm)**

The Car tore up the highway out of Los Angeles fairly well considering the condition it seemed to be in. Most of the damage must be aesthetic. By this time also Angel had worked out how to use the radio and found some other loser who believed Neil Diamond was second to no one in the music stakes. Spike quickly realised this was going to be a long journey.

In the innocuous little town of Maidenhead, in the heart of England's green and pleasant land unprecedented activity was occurring. For Mike Donatelli, manager of the little local coffee shop this involved a sudden increase in profits right in the midst of the global financial crisis. A rather disparate blend of nationalities, hardly the usual tourist crowd though. In the middle of winter, their solemn demeanour had tested his jovial small talk skills to its limit. Mike didn't know and wouldn't have understood the war council that was convening right next door to his homely café.

Here he was leading them to war. He looked to his right at his right at the boy who had been Andrew. Under all the layers of watcher training he was still there no doubt but for now all that was evident was a solemn face in a well tailored suit. Other watchers waited expectantly for his words of wisdom. What words could he Rupert Giles, head of the reformed Council of watchers give. The forces of evil were forcing their hand. Making a none too subtle attempt at Armageddon. Were they testing the council's strength? Surely they wouldn't risk all out warfare. Well soon he'd be on the battlefield evil had chosen. He wouldn't be one of those Generals sitting in a tent well back from the frontlines drinking a glass of Sancerre. He'd helped train the slayers and watchers that were going to die once he gave the order. He couldn't live with the guilt if he wasn't there risking himself in the melee of combat. He shifted his glasses in his hands relishing the solemn silence that was hovered in the air. Finally he stood. Well on these kinds of occasions respect must be paid and the seriousness of the situation conveyed. His voice felt hoarse, too many late nights sitting awake torturing himself over this decision.

"Today, we shall depart for America. A small group shall remain to guard the untrained slayers and watchers. Their names will be posted after this meeting. For those others who shall be joining me, we shall be going to war. This is not a good day but it will be a day evil shall regret in years too come."

Churchillian I hear Andrew whispering under his breath. At least it's not a star wars reference. Would Churchill have been proud of that speech? A moment with him would be most appreciated to ask him how to get through being the statesman and leader staying resolute in the face of the horror of war? Well the genie was out of the bottle now and there was no going back. Time to fly the coup and head to Sunnydale where it would all be decided. He slipped the piece of paper from under briefcase asking Andrew to pin it up. That had been tough too. He saw the relief in Andrew's eyes that he wasn't to be left behind. How close had he been to putting it on just to ensure the boy didn't end up dead? But he wasn't a boy and he would be needed in the conflict. So personal fear had given way to professionalism. His legs felt rubbery as he got up to walk back to his office. Only when safely ensconced did he slump down in his chair weighed down by the responsibility that had been placed on his shoulders.

Once upon a time there was a boy. He'd been boy with dreams of happiness. Now all he dreamed about was the dead and the hollowed out trunk that was himself. He still wasn't old. Not a boy to be sure, but no more than his late twenties. The eye patch didn't help matters. Made him look like a war veteran which he was in way and he definitely would be soon. He was the advance scout. Hunkered down in the undergrowth watching. Not that he was a watcher. Xander Harris had turned down the offer years ago, explaining he didn't have the booksmarts for it. But there were other roles in the organisation and he'd found his niche. Anya had been right. Wet works had nothing to do with scuba diving or at least rarely. There was that time in Bermuda where he'd killed the Salt-water demon while scuba diving. Once upon a time he'd been a soldier as part of a Halloween spell, now he was one for real. His camouflage clothing making him indistinguishable to unwanted eyes. His infrared night vision field glasses were trained on Sunnydale, California. His hometown, or where his hometown had been. According to the history books, there'd been an earthquake and the whole town had vanished the crevice. He knew there'd really been a Spike with a powerful amulet razing the earth and ubervamps alike. Part of him even missed the egotistical maniac. One less relic of the old Sunnydale and of the days when Anya had been alive.

He scratched at his scraggly beard. For some reason it seemed to grow in patches leaving him with a look similar to scrubland where pockets of deep growth are accompanied by sparse grasslands. Down below under the watchful eye of spotlights demons were working on constructing the town. Sunnydale was back on the map but if the demons got their way its return would herald the end of the world.

The Immortal strode. He'd never consider ever slouching or dragging his feet. His ponytail swished like a pendulum as he purposefully moved towards his goal. His charcoal coloured Armani suit tailored to perfection. All in all he was probably the perfect man or he should be. Buffy thought as she downed another cocktail. She signalled the bartender who refreshed her with another. She was rather drunk now, maybe that's why she was letting the maudlin feelings slide free from under lock and key. Another perfect meal accompanied by perfect waiter service. It's not to say she was unhappy more to say this was a limbo existence where there wasn't much feeling involved at all. The immortal was a casual amour and that's just what they both wanted. Wasn't it? It had become habitual to Buffy, she went out with the immortal because she was going out with the Immortal not because she wanted to. It was just better than being single and alone. Wasn't it? No she thought in a moment of drink fuelled clarity. This wasn't helping. It was like methadone for a cocaine addict. Now she was addicted to the methadone, conditioned to feel she couldn't cope without it. She was going to dump him right now but first she needed her drink refreshed. A suddenly her mobile phone started cheerily ringing.

The immortal stood at the urinal. The bloke next to him struggling to perform next to the imposing figure looming over him. Come on pee, come on out of the fire hose. He thought desperately as sweat started to pour from his brow. It wasn't going to work, John Dee thought desperately as he started to zip up. Time to make an exit to avoid the embarrassment becoming too much. Just make sure you don't catch his eye as you leave. Not even stopping to dry his hands on a towel he rushed from the sink and out jostling a figure coming the other way on his way back to his wife.

The door to the toilets swung shut. The newcomer looked at the Immortal but he wasn't a creature that could be impressed and magical glamour's to do so had no effect on him.

"The Immortal, formerly known as Brutus , formerly known as Judas"

The words had a gravilly tone to them. The Immortal's frame sagged, as the words seemed to almost physically strike him. Memories of how he'd plunged a dagger into Julius Caesar's white robed back rushed to the forefront of his mind. He turned all his composure wiped away by the creature in front of him. He could see past the thin veil of humanity and see pure unspeakable evil staring back at him. It wanted him, called out from within it asking if it was time for him to come back and take his place among the horde of souls.

He dropped to his knees not caring that his Armani trousers were no doubt being ruined. He begged for his life again. This wasn't the first time and he hoped it wouldn't be the last. He was their creature. He'd been alive since Christ's time betraying him onto death. But he'd bargained his soul for their protection. He'd survived through all the centuries with only the price of having to betray odd souls along the way to fit some grand master plan he didn't even know about.

"You must bring the slayer to the war that brews in Sunnydale and you must betray her to us."

Relief swept over the Immortal. He would be fine, he would have Buffy killed and then he'd be reincarnated with a new face to continue his lavish lifestyle.

"Yes master. Thank you Master."

He wept as he cried out the words and kissed his master's hands with a loyal servant's devotion.

His assurance came back as he approached the table. His master's presence dwindling into the distance and his own sense of power reasserted its dominance. He glided into his seat a radiating a charming smile full of pearly whites. Buffy seemed agitated. Did she know he was going to betray her? Had someone tipped her off? The smile never shifted as the doubts ran wild in his head.

"My incandescent beauty. Why do you frown?"

He positively purred, his voice a rich blend of pure seduction.

"I've got to go. Armageddon's coming and I've got to go …. Home."

I suppose that was the only way to describe Sunnydale, Buffy thought. Her home, her hellish home. Well not always hellish. Sometimes nice and cosy. But it was where she had fitted like a jigsaw piece. Now she felt like she was in the wrong puzzle unable to find her spot. Now though she was going back to where it all began and ended. Dusting off her stakes after a couple of years of semi retirement. He looked so calm and composed in comparison her slightly panicky demeanour.

"Then I'll come help you defeat this Armageddon."

He positively cooed motioning for the waiter to bring the cheque in one slick movement.

"I can't make you do that because I don't think us is working. Not that we can't be friends, it's just this relationship isn't helping me. I can't take you to Armageddon under false assumptions."

She rambled before taking a sip of her cocktail just to stop her out of control larynx from continuing.

He smiled back at her. She was dumping him. Well he would take extra special care to make sure she died horribly when the time came and then well … he'd punish that cute little sister of her's for Buffy's betrayal. But for now he must be ever so understanding.

"I understand my sweet girl. I thought this day might come and I'm content seeing you ready to face this world. As your friend though, I cannot…. Nay will not let you go off into danger without me by your side. "

God she thought. He was even great at being dumped. If she was him she'd be pissed or upset. But here he was the great lover of Rome happy to be told he wasn't the love of her life. She smiled tentatively back at him and happily accepted his help.

The cheque came, and then a taxi home. A suitcase packed hurriedly and her passport in her hand and she was ready for the airport. This Armageddon was going to go smoothly, she just knew it.

There was a wailing noise from the conveyor belt. Ohh go she'd forgotten to take her stake out of her handbag. What excuse could she have for having a stake in her bag? Back scratcher??? Probably wouldn't work. Her security guard opened her bag and pulled out the stake looking incredulously at her. She tried to put on her best attempt at incredulity as to how that got in her bag.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 (Dawn of battle)**

Dawn summers vomited. A reddish blend of frothy liquid forming in front of her. She wiped the spittle away from her mouth and got back to her feet. In the last couple of years she'd matured and so had her view of alcohol. She still had her trademark long auburn hair. For some reason she'd never experimented apart from that very brief time she'd died it green. That had been her rebelling at College. She was the key right to wouldn't it stand to reason she'd look good with green hair. Well it hadn't stood to reason and she'd quickly died it back. College had been liberating, freeing her from under Buffy eagle eye. Not that she didn't love Buffy but her sister was so protective it felt constrictive at times. So she'd learned how to party and how to drink. Mixing the red wine and vodka had been a bad idea though. This was her end of college thing. Exams were over and once graduation day came she'd have to join the real world. She felt a little hazy on the details but she was getting a little worried that the little angel on her shoulder was shaking its head at her so vigorously. Almost like it was saying what are you going to do now little miss? Her memory was fuzzy but she remembered getting all maudlin with Terri over Sunnydale. Then all of them had gotten in a car and come here. Here, she had a very bad feeling this might very well be Sunnydale. The mouth of hell, yes alcohol definitely was evil. Except that there didn't seem to be a big gaping hole in front of her but instead a town and lots of construction stuff. She should probably know the exact words since Xander had used to go on about his construction work at length. Her head was pounding and she was feeling rather ill still. Terri was passed out next to the campfire they'd built while Annie and Marge were playing cards while toasting marshmallows. A quaint scene that she would have enjoyed apart from the fact she could see a gang of demons appearing to be striding up the hill towards them from the light the fire was casting. She pulled a stake out of her pocket. She'd been made fun of during her college life for always carrying one but after she'd staked a couple of vampires those close to her had taken up her habit too. She stood a bit straighter which just made her feel sicker while she tried to remember all the fighting lessons Buffy had taught her. Not that it would matter there were too many of them. She was going to die. Alcohol was evil she thought as she shouted a warning to the others. Could they get in the car and get away in time? No there wasn't time. So she screamed.

The viper careened over the bump landing back on the road it stiff suspension rocking the inhabitants.

"So what's out plan?"

Angel asked suddenly worried that they were very close to Sunnydale without a clue as to what they were going to do.

"We come. We kick some demon ass. We go for a drink."

Spike suggested himself not entirely sure what they were getting themselves in the middle of. Not that he cared much. He was just pissed off and wanted some vengeance on somebody for locking him up in some crappy make believe world. They'd literally stolen life from him, even ageing him physically, as further punishment. His fingers traced the few extra lines that were on his face, amazed at the sudden change after nearly two hundred years of complete standstill.

"Shouldn't we call Giles or Buffy? Or someone?"

Angel asked.

"Yeah why haven't you? For the same reason I haven't. You don't want to possibly hear that she's dead or married and you really want to speak to Giles."

Spike replied tersely, annoyed at having to voice their joint unspoken thought that Buffy might be dead and they'd missed being there for her. The car headlights picked up Sunnydale in front of them.

"You're right. Let's go deal out some pain to these wankers."

Angel said depressing the accelerator even harder taking the car well into the hundreds of miles an hour range.

"Let's deal out some sooner. Brake now there are some demons over there."

Spike said spotting the car pulled over by the side of the road with demons surrounding it. The tyres squealed as the brakes exerted themselves and then a hand brake turn later they'd slid to a halt.

"Boy bloody racer."

Spike jibed as he clambered out the door. Why did sports car have to be so low to the ground he thought idly as he set himself, ready to charge into the fray? He was started to act like a grumpy old git.

Xander looked down at the scene. He'd seen the idiots arrive. Seen them dance around the fire they'd constructed. Should he have left his post? His conscience chided him. Years ago he would have. He'd have deserted his post, compromised the mission. The enemy would know of their presence. The idiots were going to die anyway. He could die with them but what good would that do when considered with the big picture. He saw the second car slide in. Its occupants emerging ready to help. That's it. He was still Xander Lavel Harris. He wasn't a ghoul. Wasn't going to watch two sodding people valiantly die protecting innocents while he sat on his backside. He grabbed his sword and made his way down the hill.

Dawn readied herself to die. She felt calm in the face of certain doom. Buffy wasn't going to just appear out of thin air this time. Unless Willow magicked her here which would be truly cool but unlikely. The others were screaming like a bunch of frightened girls, which is what they were. Not having the advantage of having a slayer for a sister like she did. The sound of tyres squealing and a car sliding to a halt bringing up a huge cloud of dust. Like ghosts they emerged from the haze. They had to be hallucinations of her panicked mind. They were dead weren't they? She'd taken the call from Angel's friend Lorne telling her they'd died in LA. Which had been a shock as most of them still thought Spike had died in Sunnydale. Then they were past her and into the gang of demons who seemed to not enjoy being hit by hallucinations.

She followed behind meeting a vampire who'd managed to skirt Spike and Angel with a panicked swerve. He looked down in shock at the stake Dawn had rammed home. Like a stampeding steer he'd careened into her stake. She readied herself for the next attack when she heard a cry from behind and a sword wielding Xander rush past her.

Nikolai, a Greek sand demon dived clear of the first leather bound vampire's reach. His sandpaper like skin suffering from the beating he'd just taken. This was supposed to be a few easy kills to give some newbies confidence. That's what the boss had said. Go out there and have some fun killing the silly campers. Instead it was an ambush. They'd been tempted out by the tasty treats and then the snare trap had been slammed shut with two super strong vampires. He should get away and warn the boss before it was too late. He ducked away from the nearest vamp, only to look up to see the sword blade coming down. He twisted but it was too late and the blade sliced clean through his neck. The last of the demon gang died in disarray after seeing their leader chopped down.

Spike turned, very confused now the battle was over. As he'd run past the people they'd stopped to rescue he was sure he'd seen Dawn among them. And now Xander was standing next to him looking equally shocked to see him.

"Nice sword work."

Spike said turning back and shrugging at Angel who looked as shocked as he was.

Dawn ran up, looking angry.

"Is this Buffy's doing. Dawn can't look after herself, so I'd better get chaperones. And why didn't anyone say Spike and Angel were back? I'd have liked to have known."

The words came out from Dawn as a shout. Xander looked well and truly shell shocked and incapable of answering at present. So that meant it was going to have to be him or Angel and he was the gobby one.

"Wasn't following you. Just broken out of evil jail and we were going to town to take on evil. Over to you Captain one eye."

He said feeling while not an exhaustive answer it fitted the bill. There'd be time later for a nice drawn out description. Xander seemed to be woken from his stupor by the insult.

"I wasn't following you. I was on assignment here watching the town. What are you doing here Dawn? You could have died?"

The words had a slightly haunted and accusative tone. Quite rightly accusative as Dawn seemed to have well and truly grown up and shouldn't be getting herself in trouble like this anymore.

"I screwed up."

She replied honestly, looking chagrined. Xander threw his arms around her in a bear hug and when they'd pulled free she dragged Spike into one.

"This probably isn't the best place for this. Let's get back to my base location."

Xander said scanning the horizon for anymore demon activity. They all agreed jumping in the two cars and following Xander's directions to a small shack nestled in the lee of a nearby hillside.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7(Old friends, new enemies)**

She settled in comfy seat remembering the last time she'd been in a mobile home. That time they'd been on the run from Glory and the knights of whatever. Strange how it seemed so long ago now. This was mission control on the trip to Sunnydale. Behind them were lorryfuls of slayers and watchers plus the odd respected independent demon hunter. Maps were pinned to the wall, which precisely showed Sunnydale in all its geographical glory. This was going to be a proper war and that meant there would be proper casualties. Next to her the immortal sat looking badly out of place. His sophisticated dress really at odds with the tacky mobile home décor. Maybe she should have refused his help but that would have been stupid. Just because it felt odd having her ex here wasn't a reason to deprive them of a good warrior. Giles was sitting reading, as was Willow while Kennedy sharpened a sword. Faith was chatting with Robin while several other veteran watchers were bigging up their respective slayers in what might as well have been a game of top trumps.

Dawn's friends had driven home after spending twenty minutes begging Dawn to come with her. She wouldn't go, that stubborn Summers streak was well and truly dominant at this moment. So they'd left and she was in this little corrugated iron cabin pacing up and down. She was even more annoyed because her mobile phone wasn't working. Her signal seemed to be fine but it just wouldn't connect. So she couldn't call and argue with Buffy so it would have to be these guys instead.

"And nobody was going to tell me. You were all just going to go and die without me."

The bit was well and truly a looped tape at the moment. He was having trouble keeping his mind off the fact that Buffy was going to be here soon with her boyfriend. God he'd prefer to take on the entire demon horde on his own now than have to continue waiting around just so he could see the one girl he loved with that wanker.

Xander once again tried explaining and failed miserably.

"Just apologise and wait for her to take it out on Buffy."

Spike finally said his impatience getting better of him. And he did. Someone had taken his advice and it worked too. Unfortunately that meant the focus was on him and Angel. So he had to explain what had happened waiting for Angel to chip in when necessary.

"So what you're saying is that you were in a fake world where everything was bad. Like what?"

Dawn said getting the concept slightly better than Xander who seemed to be trying to chew at it with his mind like a dog chews with a bone.

"Well Spike was evil, Buffy was a vamp and I was chained to a wall."

Angel said casting a sheepish glance at Spike who quickly replied.

"While in mine I was in a wheelchair and Peaches here was married to Buffy with brats. Next time I'm so going to remember to make you evil."

He added at the end getting annoyed again at Angel's low opinion of him while Dawn snickered uncontrollably. In the corner the kettle whistled as it came to the boil as if in warning as to events unfolding.

Sunnydale's building work had ceased. Now the emphasis had swung to blockading the town and the mountains nearby from the highway. The demon corpses of the scouting party had been found in the early hours of the morning. Stelios the sand demon was champing at the bit to go after his brother's killers but the Boss's ghouls would mete out supreme punishment to anyone disobeying orders. He'd been promised a chance to follow the killers' trail when the route was secured. His eyes kept slipping to the tracks leading back to the hills nearby where the killers lay. The ghoul overseeing this operation stared at him with hollow eyes and he returned to building the barricades.

He didn't technically exist anymore but he was here bound by hellish contract to serve his evil masters. He felt the wind gust through him but it felt distant, as did all things in this place. The trenches and barricades were nearly complete which was handy as he could see dust clouds where vehicles were approaching. The forces of right converging on this place to stand up to the well of evil that was attempting to spurt forth. Once upon a time he'd have been in those vehicles but life, death and even post death are all about the choices you make.

The lorries pulled up a distance away and the lead vehicle, a mobile home spewed forth its contents. He walked forward to meet them passing through the barricades as though they were insubstantial. War was an honourable enterprise. There were rules of etiquette that must be observed. So he'd give them the chance to quit the field and turn away. They wouldn't do it. The likes of Buffy and Giles and the rest weren't afraid of this fight and certainly wouldn't give in to fear of superior numbers.

They watched as he approached, shock evident in their faces.

"Wesley! You're dead. I saw your body"

A familiar voice called out in horror. Wesley Windham Price made eye contact with his father. The man who'd brought him up, driven him to follow in his footsteps in the watcher's academy. He should feel a well of emotion at seeing him. Those feelings were lost to him in his current state and all he felt a distant sense of recognition.

"Father. I come to parley on behalf of my employers. To offer you the chance to leave before we head down the path of conflict."

The words came out evenly without emotion. His father's face twisted with disgust. It made him look old but then he was old. Stubbornness was all that was probably keeping him away from his country home and its roaring fireplace. Inside his head the Boss whispered that the frail old man was no threat.

"How can you be working for them? Betraying your family's honour."

Bitter words spewing out of his father's face that was now red with anger.

"We thought we could fight evil in the belly of the beast. We signed contracts not realising that death would not release us from them. In fact it would bind us to their will."

His words seemed to shock the group more than his presence. Rupert Giles stepped forward. Inside his head the Boss' presence intensified as it craned to take him in.

"Tell your employer he can go to hell and if he doesn't we'll send him there."

Giles's words had an impact on the rest of the white hats. Bucking them up like a leader's words are supposed to. He'd never truly thought of Giles as anything but a liberal rank and file watcher. Now though leadership fitted him and made him seem more imposing. Wesley Windham Price bowed in response and turned and started walking away.

"I'll find a way to free you son."

His father's words rang out behind him. His mind registering them and storing them without emotion. As he passed the barricades on his way back he felt the call of his master. His physical essence dissipating at the magical pull of his employer.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8(Behind enemy lines)**

Xander was worried. He could see the lines enemy trenches stretching out barring the route between them and the line of ally troops in the distance. They were cut off from their own side and the fortification of the enemy line was getting stronger by the minute. More worryingly were the enemy sentries guarding their lines from attacks from within the Sunnydale side of the fortifications. Which meant they knew ally forces had infiltrated them. He should have guessed they would spot the dead demons and move to cut off the bottleneck entry into Sunnydale. Would they send troops to search for ally troops? Most probably. Although to call them troops was a misnomer. Dawn. He couldn't get the image of little Dawnie out of his head for all the fact that she was now 21. Then there were the two vampires who'd be forced to remain in the hut if the enemy came in daytime. He scooted backwards along the dirt trying to avoid the prying eyes of any sentry. Soon he was back at the shack where Dawn was still fruitlessly trying to get the radio to work.

"Yep they know we are here. They've blocked us off all communications."

He said as he poured himself a cup of black coffee. They all digested the news realising that meant they'd be searching for them soon enough if they hadn't started already.

It was dark now, finally. Stelios had waited till now wanting to use the vampires for their noses for scents. He'd been pacing the compound waiting as the sun moved slowly lower in the sky. Now he marched them out, his own skin missing the familiar tingle of the sun on his rough skin. His people had come out of their Sahara homeland and he felt most uncomfortable in this land of earth rather than sand. And now his dear brother was dead and he would lay the first blow that would signal the eradication of humanity. He let his mind focus on the rhythmical beating of feet on earth and waited.

The demons rounded the hill catching sight of the hut. Stelios shouted for them to charge and the horde spilled towards the tin structure. The door gave way to the force of a Fyarl demon's shoulder with minimal resistance and the wall to it fell away as sheer demon weight bombarded it. The horde ripped the fixtures off the wall in frustration at the lack of humans to rip apart. The vampires though were already pointing up the hill where their nostrils were telling them their prey had fled.

Xander trained his rifle on the target, where the path suddenly opened up leaving little protection for requiring it. At least this was one thing he didn't nee two eyes for as he panned the crosshairs across the area using the infrared sight.

"How long's Xander been super soldier?"

Spike asked Dawn in a low voice. She shrugged before replying.

"Every time I've seen him he's been goofy Xander except less goofy ever since Anya."

Just then the first vampire crept into the target area. Xander kept aim waiting for a demon he could actually kill with his rifle.

Lubyius crept forward scared out of his wits. His mind kept on playing tricks on his in this murky light. He'd heard how the last bunch who'd meet these humans had died and didn't want to follow them. He was more of a necro demon whose kind fed on the dead. He had come here to scavenge desperately looking forward to feeding on the dead humans on the battlefield. He didn't want to get dead himself though because somebody else would get to feed on his corpse or even worse it would be left to waste. There was a whizz and a plunk. His chest felt suddenly odd. He looked down to see his green blood oozing out. As his mind registered he'd been shot a second plunk took out his head and his life. The demons scattered desperately throwing themselves to the floor to avoid the flying projectiles. Demons being picked off as they ran around like headless chickens getting in each other's way. Finally Stelios got the remaining demons under shelter and sent the vampires up to deal with the gunman. Spike and Angel sensed them early. The essence of undead plainly evident to their delicate nostrils.

"Vampires they both whispered so that Xander and damn could get their crossbows out. Spike and Angel moved in front of the others knowing that their enhanced strength would finally come into play. These vampires weren't even trying to be subtle. They obviously had no clue that Spike and Angel were among their prey or else they would have tried to be a little bit subtler or you had to hope so. As he got older the more he despaired at vampires. Where were the Angelus', Darlas' and Spikes' of the next generation? He may be on the side of right and goodness but that didn't mean he liked watching the species' rep go down the toilet. They didn't even attempt to surround them, instead favouring a frontal attack. Spike and Angel rose up from hiding and clobbered them. At least a few of them had the good graces to realise who they were facing. One of them even shouting.

"Hey You're Spik…."

Just as Spike staked him. It made him feel all macho that he was still a name in vampire society. A couple tried to flee after their comrades were cut down but Xander and Dawn had moved into position and cut them down with crossbow bolts.

Down Below Stelios howled in anger as he finally realised his vampires had been eradicated.

Above, the crew had come up with a new and dangerous plan. There was no point in staying out and trying to fight whatever remained of the enemy force. They had to try an evade them. The fact two of them were vampires limited the choice to a suicide run across no mans land between enemy and ally lines assuming they even got through enemy lines. The other option was to head for the shelter of the newly constructed Sunnydale. Not a brilliant option but at least they might find out what was going on there and why the demons were building it.

Below Stelios had called for reinforcements to surround the enemy position and was now waiting to daytime to pull to the noose and kill them. His own neck constricted as the boss' presence entered his head. If he failed his won head would be in the noose it said to him. The presence slowly faded but its fiery embers still burned deep inside his skull.

They scurried down the hillside in the dark, skidding down shale slopes and trying to do so quietly. Xander had learnt to do stealth operation. Knew now instinctively where to place his feet to make least noise. He'd started out doing this but now he was just moving with speed. There was no point doing stealthy with Dawn tripping over her feet every couple of minutes. The other two weren't exactly brilliant either for that matter but Dawn hadn't seemed to have grown out of her clumsiness. It was nice knowing she was still Dawn, he half wished he was still Xander trailing behind trying not to screw up. The natural Shaggy of the group, but now he was taking the lead. Maybe he should have got himself a dog instead of going into black ops. Maybe he could have accepted his Shaggy existence if he'd had a Scooby Doo at his side. Then again Scooby was cool because he could talk and Fido or Rover wasn't because they couldn't.

They reached the first building, crouching beside it maintaining a deathly silence. The sound of feet marching to a beat got closer. Demons marched past wheeling away from them and towards where they'd come from. They'd just missed being the jam in a demon jammy dodger. Xander left the door to Spike to pick as he checked out the building itself. The buildings had been hurriedly put up. They didn't even have windows and there were gaping holes where the brickwork didn't meet. The construction worker in Xander was appalled by the shoddy workmanship. Why build houses anyway and then when you do why make such a bad job of it? There had to be something they were missing. It didn't make any sense at all. The door opened with a click as Spike triggered the lock. They sneaked inside looking out for sentries all they found was emptiness. The only things inside were the odd roof support buried into the mud floor. No they were wrong. There was a hatch in the middle of the room. There was no lock on it but it wouldn't come free no matter how much force they applied. It was a circular bronze construct with runes raced all around it in a concentric circular pattern.

"We've seen this pattern before."

Angel said, a low whisper but traces of frustrated anger clearly present.

"Yeah when we escaped our prison we escaped through a hatch like this."

Spike explained, running his hand across the bobbly metal surface. It was warm to the touch with a chilly aftertaste. Not that something warm having a cold aftertaste made any sense but then magic and mystical things rarely followed the rules of nature. Several more houses later and they were sitting in an identical looking house with an exactly similar portal.

"Suppose you need some sort of key."

Angel said more to himself than to anyone else giving it one last hopeless tug.

They all tensed at the sound of feet heard passing by. Through a hall between the bricks they saw lines of vampires passing by into a nearby hut. Flashes of amber flared at regular intervals till it all went quiet. They all crept across to the building the vampires had disappeared and entered cautiously. It was empty just like the others. Spike walked across to the portal and gave it a half hearted tug. He turned to say something sarcy but found himself underground. Above everyone stood in shock at Spike's disappearance. Xander gave the portal a tentative tug waiting for something to happen but nothing did. Angel walked up saying.

"Maybe it's a vampire thing."

As he laid his hand on the hatch handle and found himself next to Spike.

"Yep, definite vampire thing."

He said to a bemused Spike and strode ahead to study their surroundings.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9 (Waging War)**

Rupert Giles pondered if Xander was dead. He'd talked to Buffy and Willow hoping they'd received some message. Was he hiding out their somewhere or were the buzzards feasting on his corpse? His decision to send the boy, no scratch that man. He'd signed the order if not given it. It was on his conscience. Now he had to push it aside and deal with the next decision he'd made. The plan of attack, he thought as he strapped himself into the mobile home seat. Maybe not the most sensible plan he'd ever dreamt up. They couldn't just go over the top and charge across no mans land, as Field Marshall Hague would have liked. They'd be cut down like the soldiers at the Somme were in the First World War. He remembered his history though about how soldiers behind the newfangled creation of the tank had been able to advance in some safety using it as cover. Well he was going to pile everyone back inside their lorries and use them as tanks. The witches' spells would try and protect them from projectiles fired at them until they hit the enemy lines. Then everyone was to pile out and the battle main would begin. He wasn't naïve enough to know that there wouldn't be casualties but needs must as the devil drives. The enemy wouldn't come to them, being quite happy doing whatever their evil plans were in the safety of the town. Others had urged caution, the option of waiting and seeing. But they had no intelligence on what the enemy was doing let alone their time scales for completing it. They had to move now in case time wasn't on their side. The engine roared to life followed by string of others in synchronised order.

Daybreak was upon them. At least that would put the vampires out of the fight. The mobile home surged forward and he mentally counted forwards as he adopted the crash position. Outside the sound of objects stinging the magical wards, then striking the side and finally smashing through the window. Terence Davies, a watcher who'd he'd grown to respect highly over the last few years was struck by an arrow. Like King Harold it protruded from his eye where he'd looked up at the last second. A millisecond of time where he'd seen death coming and now he was gone. He didn't have time to grieve or reflect as the vehicle ploughed into the enemy barricades. Everyone was thrown about as it ploughed forward and down into the trench behind. Other crashes followed in quick order .He unstrapped himself trying to ignore the signs of whiplash. The door bust open and a Fyarl demon smashed a Fyarl sized new doorway in order to get at the occupants. Faith, Kennedy and Buffy were up and kicking. Slayer endurance enabling them to be fit and raring to go despite being in the crash. A good sign considering the trucks were full of slayers. The Fyarl looked shocked at facing such skilled opponents. They weren't bright creatures, as Giles knew from being one. It knew the simple things though, like when it was beaten. The Fyarl teetered and fell dead at his feet. He clambered over its corpse and followed after the slayers trying to stay in their wake and just dispatch anything trying to sneak up on them or anything not quite dead. Not exactly the glamorous end of the gig, but a middle-aged ordinary human wouldn't last long on the line. He saw Faith take a blow that would have killed him for sure and flip back upright and carry on fighting as if it was nothing.

The plan had been for the forces to join together forming an arrow point, which looked so neat in textbooks and on battleplans. However in the heat of battle it was turning into more of a pitchfork. Definite salients forming where groups had come together and surged forwards rather than diagonally to join up with the main body. Salients weren't good as it left those forces surging ahead on their own on their own so to speak without any backup. He shouted across trying to get other watchers to bring the shape back to the combat. An arrow skimmed his ear leaving it bleeding. He ducked in time to see another fly where his head had been. Fortunately the archer had needed a sighter. He'd made himself a target by trying to organise things. The next arrow was closer to him but also gave away the demons location. A pale skinned weedy green thing that was having some trouble attempting to reload its crossbow. He knelt down on one knee, steadied his aim and fired. The demon slowly topped over, the arrow buried in its skull. He got up and noticed the arrowhead was forming whether from his attempted effort at communication or just from communal insight.

The main demon horde was in flight only the ones cut off from escape or too stupid to realise were still engaging ally forces actively. Their leaders trying to maintain some kind of orderly retreat towards the town of Sunnydale itself. Giles stumbled onwards averting his gaze whenever he saw a dead slayer or watcher stretched out dead on the battlefield. The battle had gone better than he could ever have expected. The demons hadn't had the stomach for the fight and their superior numbers had been of little matter because of that fact. They were fleeing towards the town, where the fighting would turn more guerrilla. As far as Giles could see, that would aid the agile slayers rather than bulky and numerous demons. It didn't make any sense. They were now forming a makeshift damn at the town entrance. It only made sense if they had some bolt hole. Why else sacrifice the group at the mouth of the town. Demons dying so that others could escape. He shouted out for his troops to try and skirt the unit at the front of the town. It was too late by the time they got into the town itself it was deserted. He walked the empty streets, watching frustrated Slayers chatting to each other without demons to fight. Suddenly out of a door to his left, Xander appeared and behind him even more shockingly Dawn. He grabbed them both in a bear hug, the relief at them not being dead overwhelming him. He pulled his glasses free, wiping the tears away from the lenses.

"What?, how?. Does Buffy know?"

Dawn looked sheepish while Xander worked out how to start answering his questions.

"Dawn!"

The shout had the hardness that can only come from sibling disapproval.

Buffy strode forward her bloody sword still standing at attention. A feeling of paternal pride swept through Giles at how she was still alert even in this supposing calm. He shouldn't have a favourite but she was his Slayer and she would always be his favourite. Xander grabbed him and they walked off to the side while the siblings followed the longstanding sibling fight process. Fight, makeup and then hug. He caught up with Xander in the meantime hearing how they'd fled here into town to evade capture but there seemed to be something he was leaving out. He mentioned this fact to Xander who looked away until Buffy and Dawn approached.

"You told yet."

Dawn asked Xander, who shook his head.

"Told what? That you're an idiot who got drunk drove out here as a end of school prank."

Giles looked disapprovingly at Dawn about the launch into a lecture but she cut him off.

"Spike and Angel helped save me."

Dawn blabbed to save herself from another lecture. She'd got well and truly bored of lectures. Being the youngest Scooby had its perks, the lengthy lectures weren't one of them.

Buffy looked like someone had punched her. Not surprising really since she'd heard two ex lovers were alive, well as alive as undead vampires could be after considering them dead for several years.

"Spike and Angel are dead."

She said stubbornly.

"Appears not to be the case. Wolfram & Hart were punishing them for what they did but they escaped and came here. "

Xander replied trying to add some detail to the discussion. Giles ushered them into one of the empty buildings and demanded a full explanation. Xander and Dawn took turns explaining the events since the vampires had turned up in their viper.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10 (Underneath it all)**

Down below Wesley Windham price strolled down the corridor. He walked through another hatch with even more detailed runes on it. Behind it a sea of blood gently lapped against the walls of the cavern pushed by some mystical tidal force. His shoes and legs passed through it till it reached his thighs before steps led upwards and out of the blood. His ghostly legs came free of the mess untouched. He felt the pull of his client's mind and continued into a candle lit altar room. The floor was a mess where part of the boss' form had burst through the rock and freed itself. A couple of tentacles had freed themselves along with one of its bulbous heads. The pure mental demon force rocked him. He knew if it found out Wollfram and Hart had aided and abetted the allied forces this thing would be able to get revenge on him. Even though he was dead he was not immune to something with its arcane powers. His only hope was that it was so alien it didn't even consider that demonity had become so corrupted by humanity that it would betray its divine goal just out of selfishness. This wasn't wolfram and Hart's apocalypse and although they wouldn't actively oppose it, if they could throw a spanner in the works without getting caught they would. Once again it didn't seem to notice his inner guilt, instead too focused on its own goals. The end of the world would come if it escaped from its place here where it was blocking the dam like the little boy with his finger in the dyke. The well of evil stored beneath its hulk brewing over time like a vat of well matured whiskey. It was now so rich and potent that once released it would spread over the world and fertilise the seeds of corruption in the world. With the boss stirring it expertly like some chef whipping up a soufflé.

"They will break down the wards. You must redouble your efforts to free me and keep them from this place."

The words ripped through his skull, raking virtual claws across his essence. He bowed before making his way down below the boss' visible form to the ranks of demons were working with pickaxes at the rock formation. It was taking longer to remove the boss from his prison of the ages. The rock deposits were so tough they blunted pick axes at an alarming rate. Events above threatened Armageddon's successful completion. The allied forces would have to fight hand to hand in tunnels filled with demons though once they overcame the first hatch runes. Human blood would run red in these tunnels no matter what and he found himself experiencing a moment of sadness at that. Like a faint path to his soul that had become overgrown with vegetation over time but still existed if you knew where to look. Were Wolfram and Hart offering him a way to have free will in the upcoming battle? He walked on passing ranks of vampires and demons milling about uselessly in the halls with nothing to do but wait for the inevitable attack.

Spike tried to look as natural as possible and stop Angel from staring. The sight of Wesley walking amongst and through demons had come as a shock to both of them. He'd had to virtually drag Angel away from confronting his erstwhile friend. Fortunately he'd seemed too distracted to notice them and the whole demon society seemed too disorganised to have any kind of role count of who was supposed to be here and who wasn't. They'd avoided the huddles of vampires in case they recognised them. Now they were just aimlessly wandering the tunnels. Angel pulled away following Wesley's path. Well I suppose it was a plan Spike thought as he followed Angel as he rather unsubtly chased Wesley's trail. Not a sensible plan but better than nothing. He saw Angel round a corner and fly backwards in a flash of energy. He threw himself into a side tunnel as demons crowded around Angel trying to vanish into the shadows. He glimpsed Wesley standing over Angel shaking his head and ordering demons to grab the prone vampire.

Willow and the other witches chanted incessantly. It was a tiresome process, dismantling each rune piece by piece in order to free the hatch. It was going to take time but the hatch would open and reveal its contents. In the meantime Willow had to accept her inner well of magic dwindling in the metaphorical equivalent of unpicking the lock by taking the lock apart piece by piece to reach the trigger mechanism. She was dimly aware of Buffy pacing impatiently at the edges of her consciousness.

Spike was alive. She didn't remember being this pissed off in a long time. He'd come back again and hadn't contacted her again. She was so going to kick his ass. That felt good, that made her feel alive. Her feeling for Angel had come to an inevitable conclusion. They'd gone after their own lives but with Spike he'd denied her love at the end and she'd never got the chance to see if there was something lasting beneath all the walls of denial they'd built up. She wasn't going to let him die again before she had a chance to give him a piece of her mind. She twirled her weapon, the inactivity of the last hour making her realise how much she had missed full on slaying without even realising it.

The immortal hadn't had an opportunity to kill the slayer in the first battle. It had all been over too quickly, but once in the tunnels below it would be easy to slip a knife between her ribs and end her pitiful existence. He felt his master's presence even more strongly, telling him they would soon get a chance to meet. This was where his master had reached out and plucked him from obscurity and placed him on his path to glory. His eyes glanced every once and awhile to the figure of Dawn chatting with her friend Xander. Lust and longing for the pain he wished to inflict on her battling under his serene appearance.

Angel awoke in a cell. The taste of blood on his lips, in his mouth and lapping around his body in gentle waves. Human blood sliding down his gullet and even as it did he was struggling up and retching. He felt on fire, like when he'd had his first feed as a fledgling. The rich taste of blood blurring his mental faculties like a drug high. Angel splashed through the ankle deep blood to the exit to his cell. There were no bars but you didn't need bars when you have shimmering magic light. He reached forward making contact with his fingers and received a kind of electric shock. But this was the shock that kept giving, reverbating in his head like a drum beat. Outside Wesley saluted with a look grim determination on his face.

"Probably best not to do that again."

Wesley suggested from his position on the other side of the bars. Angel reached out stubbornly before stopping. You didn't need to be one of Pavlov's dogs to realise not ringing this particular type of bell was the correct conditionally learned reflex.

"Not you too Wesley. How can you be evil/"

Angel voice was born from desperation that almost caused him to reach out and touch the barrier again.

"You don't get it Angel. This is what happens when you sign up to evil Inc. You don't destroy the beast, it devours you. I signed a contract and it is binding in death as in life. Really should have checked the small print. Did you?"

Wesley replied, his voice dead pan and emotionless.

"What?,Wolfram and Hart. They don't own me!"

Angel shot back his voice full of desperate uncertainty.

"Don't you get it. We're all being punished. Me, Lorne, Gunn and even dear Fred. Now it's your turn."

Wesley said the words, a touch of sorrow in the words and a silent sorry mouthed at Angel before he turned and left. Above Angel a sound similar to running water could be heard. It wasn't water and it was running into his cell. The blood level rose to his knees and try as he might there was no weakness in his cell. No hole that could be punched to release the blood now up to his waist. He could feel his hunger rising overwhelming his self control as the pure animal smell of human blood sent his hormones into ecstasy. No one came just I time to rescue him as the blood poured above his mouth. It seeped into his nose and mouth and overwhelmed his defences. Finally he opened his mouth and gulped down huge lungfuls of the delicious lifeblood.


End file.
